


not really gay chicken but sort of

by conditioner



Category: Supernatural
Genre: High School AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-02
Updated: 2013-04-02
Packaged: 2017-12-07 07:39:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/745982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/conditioner/pseuds/conditioner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which dean and cas are pretty fuckin dumb and do not kiss but then stop being dumb and kiss (amen)</p>
            </blockquote>





	not really gay chicken but sort of

Eyes blazed, alive and delirious and almost sliding shut as the waves of pleasure wracked their forms. The heat was suffocating, but they didn’t care. He slid his hands up from the freckled shoulders underneath his palms to rake through short light brown hair and cried out. Lips hovered tantalizingly over his exposed neck, lighting the flurries of static alight in the pit of his stomach. 

His toes curled inwards on the sheets as a hand caressed down his sensitive side, sending shivers through his body as their hips grinded against each other.  
Lips found each other again, seeking, desperate, drawing from each other moans and sighs of relief. He gasped out a “ _more_ ” against his lips, hoping his message was heard through the rush of passion. Apparently, it was, because a mere second later he was pulling away, causing a whimper to spill from his lips. Green eyes flashed with amusement and the corners of his lips quirked to prove it, dipping his head back down to trail open-mouthed kisses up the line of his jaw. 

Hot breath ghosted over his ear, tickling the damp, kissed skin tantalizingly. “ _Wake up_.”

Confusion stirred within him at the words. The question on his lips stayed there as the boy lifted his lips from his ear and gave him one last heated look before his eyes flared open, the green gaze burned into the back of his mind and his heart hammering in his chest.

“You slept through your alarm again,” he heard to his left. Castiel turned his head to look at his sister, Anna. She took in the light sheen of sweat covering his body with a raised eyebrow and rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to know. Just hurry up and get ready.”

Once Anna left the room, he kicked the sheets off his body and sighed at the bulge tenting his pants. He rushed to the shower and turned the cold knob all the way, wincing as the water pounded on his skin. He rested his forehead against the wall as the water did its work, heaving a soft sigh as he willed it to wash away the memories of the dream down the drain as well. While finally turning off the shower ten minutes later, Castiel felt vaguely disappointed at the dream’s persistence to stay vivid and clear in his mind instead of fading away in 2.3 seconds like every other thing he’s ever dreamed about. That particular shortcoming of the human brain could seriously come in handy right now. A boner’s not exactly what he planned to wear to school today.

The roar of an engine snapped him back to reality; he dressed himself quickly and ran for the car.

“We’re gonna be late,” Anna told him plainly as he settled into the passenger seat. He looked at the time on the car’s dashboard and nearly rolled his eyes.

“We live about five minutes away from school and class doesn’t start in another 30 minutes,” Castiel replied, cooly. 

Anna pouted and sighed. “You know I like to get there early.”

Castiel shrugs disinterestedly, focusing on the trees racing past his window as they near the school. This morning, he was opening his locker in a rush, stuffing this morning’s needed books into his backpack in a hope to at least be allowed to properly wake up before having to see him. He soon found his efforts were in vain, however, when Dean Winchester came to lean against the locker next to him.

“Hey, Cas,” he greeted, leaning in just close enough to be flirty, an easy smile curling the corners of his lips. Cas turned his eyes on Dean. Their gazes instantly caught, and it felt like all the oxygen in the room was suddenly sucked out. The feeling persisted even when Dean’s eyes trailed downwards; first to his lips, then to his chest, watching the rise and fall of it as he felt his breath quicken.

Cas swallowed and turned back to his locker. “Hello, Dean.” He felt his nerves flutter in the pit of his stomach, and he instantly wished they were as fragile and crushable as actual butterflies. It would make life infinitely easier.

Life, however, was apparently not made to accommodate others. He could feel Dean’s gaze had not left his body and the knowledge nearly set his skin on fire.

“So I was wondering,” Dean started, “Can I catch a ride with you and your sister today?”

Castiel stopped himself just in time to not slam his locker shut. He pointedly turned away from Dean and began to walk to his first class. He knew Dean would follow him, though, considering they were going the same way. 

“What about your car?”

“Dad had to use it today,” Dean replied smoothly, falling into stride with him.

Castiel mulled it over. 

In some distant past he might have known—but now? He’s not completely sure how or who started the game they’re both playing. If it came down to a life-or-death situation in which he absolutely had to guess, though, he’d place his bets on Dean. 

At first, Cas wasn’t sure if he was even doing it on purpose, considering how incredibly oblivious he’s always been to the matters of the heart. However, Dean has most definitely never been oblivious to human’s more… _carnal_ desires. What raised the most confusion was the fact that as long as Castiel has been friends with him, he’s only known him to pursue the female population. And, frankly, having your best friend hit on you is one hell of a way to find out he swung both ways. 

Either way, what he does know _now_ is that agreeing to give Dean a ride after school would be an incredibly stupid decision on the general scheme of things. Clearly a trap. 

However, Dean’s house was quite literally right across the street from his. He used to always walk to and from school with him pretty much as long as they had both lived there until Dean got his own car—then they switched from walking to driving. It wasn’t until the whole thing started at some point this year when Castiel avoided falling back on those habits as much as possible.

The problem with that, of course, is that he found a sick, twisted thrill in thrusting himself into the awkward, somewhat compromising situations. And they both knew it, even if he would not admit it.

Castiel inwardly sighed. 

“I don’t see why not,” He finally answered, turning into his first period classroom as the bell rang. 

.

.

.

Dean didn’t bother thinking about exactly what the game meant. If he did he’d probably panic, so he decided to just go with the flow and put off the imminent sexual identity crisis pending. The calm-before-the-storm’s thirty day trial would probably come to an end sometime, though it’s definitely been more than thirty days since this all started. He’s not exactly in denial though, he’s not rationalizing this by deluding himself into thinking it’s a big, twisted, complicated game of reverse gay chicken (that wouldn’t even make sense), so maybe he somehow managed to skip the whole gay freak-out part of every gay teenage experience. Maybe some problems _did_ just go away the more you pushed them down. Sweet.

Having managed not to think about it for the entirety of their game already, he was, of course, not thinking about it now. Instead he was thinking about how uninteresting the thirteen colonies were in comparison to his best friend’s choice of wardrobe today. 

He looked at the clock on the wall for the seventh time that class. It’s been a minute since he last checked, and only fifteen minutes have passed by overall. He sneaked a glance over his shoulder at Cas, who was studiously taking notes with the intensity and focus he puts into all his tasks. His gaze lingered down to the incredibly tight pants Cas only wears when he has no other option. Thank God for laundry day.

Dean supposes 8:15 AM is as good a time to start the day as any.

He doesn’t bother asking to go to the bathroom before getting up; the teacher had made it clear in the beginning of the year that you didn’t have to ask—just do your business and come back; what you missed was your problem and responsibility. He was willing to take the risk. As Dean passed by Castiel on his way to the door in the back of the classroom, he trailed his fingers from Cas’s fingertips down to his elbow. It took all of his willpower not to look back at his reaction before walking out into the hallway.

Once the sound of the door clicking back shut confirmed Dean’s exit, Cas swallowed thickly, scratching at the tingling the graze of Dean’s touch had left in its wake in attempt to get rid of it. 

This was going to be a long day.

.

.

.

Thankfully enough, Dean had refrained from doing anything else for the remainder of their first period class. This was, of course, however, no indication of how he’d act the rest of the day. As soon as they were out, Dean was falling into step with him.

“Hey, let me walk you to class. English is on the way to calculus,” Dean says, casually bringing an arm over his shoulder.

“You don’t even _have_ calculus,” Cas protests.

Dean only smiled in response, a secret hidden in the upturn of his lips. 

They walked in silence; the intimacy of Dean’s gesture drew a few stares, but they both ignored it in favour of paying hyper-attention to each other’s expressions and movements. The closer they got to Cas’s classroom, the closer Dean would pull him against him. Dean gradually slid his arm down from his shoulder lower, coming to rest on his waist and tugging gently. 

Cas, meanwhile, was gritting his teeth and clutching his books tighter to his chest. Dean was now tracing smooth, teasing circles on his sensitive sides, and Cas can now see the history classroom at the end of the hall. He set his sights at the door, ignoring Dean’s hands with determination. 

The last few seconds seemed to go on a lifetime; Dean pressed Cas against him harder, trailing his fingers down lower tantalizingly slow. As they reached their destination, Dean quickly slipped his entire hand into his back pocket and squeezed gently. 

Castiel did _not_ jump.

“Well, see you later,” Dean said, amusement clear in his voice. Before slipping away, in a moment of spontaneity Cas turned in Dean’s arms, grabbed his collar and kissed his cheek. 

“I’ll see you in lunch,” Cas smiled at Dean’s bewildered expression, turning back around and walking into the classroom with an exaggerated swing to his hips.

Dean silently thanked the bell for driving away the last of the scurrying students into their corresponding classrooms with its shrill cry, because he just decided that the best use of his time at that present moment was to wonder what would have happened if he had shifted his lips a little to the right just then. How long would it have taken him to drag Cas to the nearest supply closet? How would it have felt to run his hands along his tight jeans as their lips melded together? 

“Fuck,” Dean muttered, looking down at his pants. 

Yes, he most definitely would _not_ want to be interrupted. 

Thank god for free block.

.

.

.

Dean dumps his books into his locker. It’s a mess; loose papers litter the bottom, disheveled and forgotten with books stacked on top in no particular order. He never saw the point in decorating a locker, like so many other people do. It was a waste of time. At least for Dean, who used it as infrequently as humanly possible. The one and only “decoration” he owns is the cheap, plastic mirror stuck carelessly on the door of his locker from the time Jo insisted his locker looked too empty and thrust the thing into his arms. 

At first, he had put it there just to please her; it’s not like he cared either way. Over the course the years, however, it has quickly become his favourite thing about his locker. 

The thing was, Castiel had been assigned to the locker right across from his, and his beloved mirror allows him to stare at Cas’s ass for as long as he’s changing his books without being too obvious about it. Every now and then he hoped Cas would bend over to pick up a book he had accidentally dropped, and it seemed that whatever higher power might exist is on his side today.

His free show was suddenly interrupted when a hand reached out to yank the mirror off his locker door.

“What the hell—“ Dean started, turning to look down at Jo’s exasperated face.

“I swear to god, Dean. I’ve called your name _five_ times—I don’t understand why you idiots don’t just have sex already, if you both want to so much.”

Dean rolled his eyes and yanked the mirror out of his hands, gingerly placing it back in its place. “What do you want?”

“There’s a party at the Roadhouse tomorrow night. You’ll come, right?” She asked, pointing a finger at him threateningly.

Dean’s eyes flickered to the mirror, where he could see Cas now closing his locker and walking away.

“You can bring your boyfriend,” Jo says, impatient.

“He’s not my—“

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it all before, Winchester,” she said, turning around to leave. “Just come!”

He rolled his eyes and slammed his locker shut, making his way to the cafeteria. 

He spotted Cas in the line, looking over the food options. Dean smiled to himself, watching Cas’s head tilt this way and that as he carefully assessed each item on the menu through the slightly steamed up glass. What if he actually did ask Cas out to the party? Would he say yes? 

He walked over to him silently, careful not to tip him off. He made his way behind the shorter boy and squeezed his butt like he had earlier. Cas started and whirled around, coming face to face with the lazy grin on Dean’s face.

“Hey, Cas,” he said. Grin widening when Cas’s gaze flickered to his lips.

“Dean,” Cas greeted, looking over his shoulder at the people behind them. “You shouldn’t cut.”

“I don’t think they mind.”

“Perhaps you should ask them.”

“Well, I think I’d rather ask _you_ something,” he retorted.

“What?”

Dean’s smirk faltered; he hadn’t really thought ahead of that and he’s not sure how to go about it. He’s not sure if asking Cas on what would technically be a date would somehow be against the rules to their game they’ve never even talked about. 

He opened his mouth to ask him, but just as he was about to summon the courage to actually say it, he couldn’t. Fear gripped at his chest, and he felt something heavy settle in his stomach. 

“Um. Just. See anything good to eat today?”

Castiel raises an eyebrow. He seems like he’s about to call Dean out, but at the last moment he decides to give him the benefit of the doubt. His eyes linger for a few moments before finally looking back at the food. “Pretty much the same thing they have every day.”

Dean inwardly sighed with relief. “Sucks.”

.

.

.

The car ride from school with Dean wasn’t as disastrous as Cas had predicted—humiliation as well as temptation was easily avoided by sitting in the passenger seat while Dean sat in the back. There was no way for him to reach for Castiel without making his intentions obvious. And, considering they’d have an audience, Dean’s options were even more limited. 

After shutting the front door to his house behind him, Castiel had felt the tension immediately seep out, thanking god that today wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Just as he was about to turn to go lock himself in his room, however, there was a knock on the door with Dean on the other side, smiling sheepishly and smugly. He claimed no one was home and he was locked out of his house. 

So now, Castiel is pretending to do homework while Dean pretends to do his. Well, generally, at least. At _this exact moment_ , Dean’s in the bathroom, so Cas is frantically googling “ _how do you seduce your best male friend please help_ ,” because if there was any time to win this stupid game of theirs, it might as well be in the comfort of his own home. It didn’t really provide much help, though, so he changed his search to a simpler “ _how to seduce a guy_ ,” and he tries not to glance nervously at the door every five seconds while the results load on screen.

The first link reads “ _how to seduce a man that is not yours_.” He supposes that sounds promising—Dean may be his best friend but he’s not… _his_.

Castiel opens the link.

“ _#1 Work your eye contact_ ” Castiel snorts; he thinks they’re a little past that. He skims over the next few. Flirting, lingering touches, creating awkward situations… They’re already doing pretty much all of this. The ignoring him every now and then one seems pretty helpful though. He’ll keep that one in mind. And he can’t really show too much skin since they usually do this at school between or during classes…

He sighed and scrolled all the way down. At the bottom of the page there were links to other how-to articles that might be useful. He glazed over them boredly: _how to look sexy without trying, how to talk to a guy you like, how to flirt with a guy without making it obvious, how to kiss a friend by accident, how to make a guy your sex buddy, how to make a guy fall in love with you..._

Castiel felt his heart constrict, eyes lingering on the last words. He slowly brought his mouse to hover over the link. Castiel hesitated, biting his lip when suddenly the door opened and he hurriedly slammed his computer shut before being able to process the situation. 

Cas was about to open his mouth to give a half assed excuse for his behavior at Dean’s eyebrow lift when he noticed a much more pressing matter.

Dean… was naked. Dean was _naked_.

Or, well, almost naked. If you counted a towel wrapped around his waist not-naked, which, in this situation, Castiel didn’t.

His mouth snapped shut and he was pretty sure his eyes were in danger of bulging out of his sockets. Water droplets dripped from Dean’s short, light brown hair and dotted his chest and arms. 

Castiel cleared his throat, but it did nothing to stop the squeak at the beginning of his sentence. “I thought you were in the bathroom.”

Dean didn’t even try to hide his smirk as he walked forward. “I _was_ in the bathroom.”

“Well, yes, but.” Castiel silently commended his ability to miraculously not stutter, but decided not to push his luck and left the sentence alone. Instead, he watched Dean walk to his closet.

“You mind if I borrow something of yours?” 

Dean’s back was to him now, and Castiel admired the way his muscles flexed as Dean reached over to the top drawer to grab one of his bigger shirts he used to sleep and swallowed thickly. Dean turned his head over his shoulder to raise an eyebrow. Cas’s gaze shifted to Dean’s eyes.  
“Unless you want me to just stay like this…”

“No!” Castiel yelled immediately. He felt himself flush. “I-I mean… No…” It took every ounce of him not to beat his head against a wall immediately. “Yes, of course you can.”

When Dean turned back around to search through his clothes Castiel stubbornly turned his attention back to his computer. He opened it again and hurriedly closed the window, sighing at the essay for his history class he had been working on. 

He felt his mattress dip beside him.

“What were you doing?” Dean asked, reaching out to shift the computer screen so he could see it easier. “You shut it pretty quickly when I came in.”  
Now that Dean was wearing clothes, Cas could feel himself calm down. He kind of misses the days when spending time with Dean was easier and not as strained by… sexual tension. Who does this type of thing even happen to? Cas’s biggest problem right now is that he wants to kiss the living daylights out of his best friend of seven years (and maybe a bit more than that) and he’s pretty sure said best friend feels more or less the same way but instead of indulging it they just deliberately _make it worse_. 

If they’re not the world’s biggest masochists, he doesn’t know who are.

“You scared me,” Cas replied. He tried to divert his attention back to his essay, but he just couldn’t concentrate. He hated being watched while writing. Not to mention Dean was the one doing it, and Castiel cannot concentrate after the stunt Dean just pulled. He heaved a frustrated sigh and turned to Dean.   
“Don’t you have any work to do?”

Dean looked almost offended. “It’s Friday.”

Cas rolled his eyes and moved to turn back to his computer, but Dean caught his shoulder.

“Hey.” The softness in Dean’s voice made him look up at Dean. He was smiling at him, it seemed almost secret; genuine affection hidden in the small curve of his lips. “C’mon.”

Dean got up and trailed his hand down to Cas’s elbow, pulling at it. Cas glanced at Dean’s hand and then back to his computer. 

“But—“

“You can work tomorrow, Cas. Just c’mon.” They caught each other’s eyes. “Please.”

Castiel silently shut his computer and got up, invading Dean’s personal space in the process. This time, however, Dean didn’t seem to notice or care; instead he grinned widely at him and Cas had a hard time willing his heart to stop pounding in his chest when suddenly Dean’s hand was on his and pulling him along.

Castiel didn’t bother commenting when Dean led him out of his house. Cas remembered all the times they’d be hanging out at one of their houses and Dean, being Dean, would get restless, and would drag Cas along for a walk. Sometimes they’d talk, but most of the time they’d just walk in silence, listening to the sound of cars passing by, children playing on the sidewalk, or fathers getting home, and dogs barking their welcome. He always enjoyed those walks; usually, they were at night, and he couldn’t help but love the way the cool breeze felt against his skin and played with Dean’s hair, nothing but the moonlight and the light leaking from people’s windows lighting their path. He always thought about how easy it would be to press his hands into Dean’s—the night would cloak them, and it could be their own little secret. 

This time, however, the walk wasn’t long enough to appreciate the warmth of Dean’s hand in his. Dean was walking them over to his own house with purpose.  
Castiel huffed, annoyed. “I thought you were locked out of your hou—“

“Shhhh,” Dean said, and Cas sighed. Dean reached over the fence leading towards his backyard and unlocked it from the inside, not bothering with closing it again as he reached a window and let go of Cas’s hand to open it. Cas frowned, but he wouldn’t admit he was disappointed at the loss out loud.   
Dean drew back the curtains and propped himself up on the windowsill, climbing over and jumping inside. He turned back around to face Cas and offered him his hand. Cas felt tempted to take it but he decided not to; instead rolling his eyes at Dean and swatting his hand away, moving forward to prop himself up. 

He soon realized that was a bad idea, however, when his hand slipped. His heart jumped in his throat as he felt himself fall forward and saw the ground get closer and closer in slow motion. Thankfully, though, playing lacrosse has made Dean’s reflexes fast, and the next thing he knows he’s slumping over Dean’s arms.

“Thanks,” Cas huffed, standing up straight, looking anywhere but at Dean, waiting for him to move away. A few moments passed, however, and Dean remained motionless. They were so close Cas could hear the deep, steady breaths Dean took as he watched him. Castiel shivered involuntarily. He hugged his arms to his chest and coughed.

“The, um. The window,” Castiel began, braving a look at his friend. Dean did not take his eyes off him as he reached over behind Cas to pull the window down—the action brought the two even closer together, their faces only inches apart.

Cas could practically feel the way their breaths mingled and merged together. His heart sped up in his chest, and he couldn’t help feeling a strong, gravitational pull towards Dean. They were so _close_ , it was almost physically painful, having to force himself to remain firmly planted where he stood.

Castiel’s gaze flickered from Dean’s green eyes to his lips. He swallowed thickly before biting his own delicately. More than anything, he wishes this game wasn’t just that—a _game_. He wants, more than anything, for it to be real. More than once he’s wondered if he’s the only one between the two who feels genuinely tempted to jump the other’s bones, meaning he would eventually, inevitably, lose the game. Dean would then emerge victorious and he would probably just choose to forget they ever did this entirely, and—

His thoughts were cut off when Dean’s lips crashed into his own. He gasped into the kiss as Dean crowded him toward the window, pressing him up against the glass. He carefully slotted a knee between Cas’s thighs before curling his arms around his waist. Castiel slowly melted into the kiss, letting his eyes droop closed and snaking his arms around Dean’s neck, threading his fingers in Dean’s short, light brown hair and tugging. Cas’s lips curved upward at the sound of Dean’s relieved moan. Their lips moved passionately in tandem until they had to part for air. 

Dean barely waited two seconds before diving back in for another, slower, kiss, ending it with a teasing nip at Cas’s bottom lip.

“I resisted your fuckin’ _laundry day pants_ but suddenly you fuckin’ bite your lip like that and I can’t fuckin’ take it anymore,” Dean growls raspily.  
Cas suddenly stops playing with the hairs on the base of Dean’s neck, dumbfounded. “Wait. So, I actually won?”

Dean chuckles affectionately. “Don’t let it get to your head,” he mutters, burying his face into Cas’s neck. 

A dizzying giddiness strikes Castiel, disbelieving laughter bubbling up from his chest and spilling from his lips. “I’m not, I just. Really did not expect to win. I was just about ready to jump your bones, to be honest.”

Dean pulled away; his brows raised high on his forehead, an amused smile stretching his lips. “Were you, now?”

Castiel smirked back at him, trailing his hand slowly downward toward his jeans. “Well you’d know I’m lying if I denied it now, wouldn’t you?” He hooked his finger into the waistband of his jeans, sliding it slowly towards the centre. Their faces were merely inches apart, and Cas’s fingers had reached Dean’s pant’s button. He unbuttoned them, fingers migrating down to the zipper when, suddenly, a knock at Dean’s door caused them to break apart, both of their faces flushed when Sam opened the door to find them standing a suspiciously large amount of space apart. Sam looked at them oddly for a moment before shaking his head.

“Hey, Dean. Cas,” Sam greeted. “Just, um…” Sam trailed off, studying Dean’s disheveled hair, unbuttoned pants, and their kiss-swollen lips. “Wanted to… say I was home…”

Dean nodded, awkwardly. “Hey, Sammy,” he replied in a small voice, clearing his throat.

Cas did not trust his voice, so he remained silent until Sam quietly left the room after a mumbled “See ya.”

“Shit, man, I’m sorry about that,” Dean said, running a hand through his hair.

Cas laughed awkwardly. “It’s fine, it’s not like it’s your fault…”

The sentence trailed off into an awkward silence. For one terrifying moment, fear gripped Dean’s heart. What if this was just a one-time thing, and the moment was now destroyed and in the past because Sam fucking chose _the worst possible time to come home_. Dean was on the verge of hyperventilating when he noticed Cas innocently biting his lip again, and suddenly, just like that, Dean calmed down. He couldn’t help smiling to himself as he watched Cas play with the hem of his sweater.

Dean moved toward Cas again until their foreheads rested against each other. “If you keep biting your lip like that I’m gonna want to do it for you,” Dean warned, quietly now that they were not alone. 

Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck again, smiling coyly up at him. “I think I’ll take my chances,” he replied, leaning forward for another kiss.  
Watching Cas so close, though, Dean’s thoughts travelled back to what he almost asked Cas during lunchtime and he did not meet him halfway, instead alternating for swallowing nervously.

Castiel opened his eyes, tilting his head at Dean in confusion. “Dean?”

“I just,” Dean began, feeling his throat closing up. He coughed, took a deep breath: “I wanted to ask you something earlier today and I, uh, chickened out…”

Cas blinked, tilting his head sideways. “You mean during lunch?”

Dean sighed. “Yeah, um. I didn’t actually mean to ask about the food…”

Castiel bit his cheek to keep from smiling. “Yes, I figured.”

“I wanted…” Dean took a deep breath, steeling his resolve. “I wanted to ask you to Jo’s party tomorrow.” He swallowed. “As my date.”

Cas’s lips parted in surprise. A few moments passed. “ _Oh_.”

“Yeah, I was—I was thinking I could maybe pick you up and just go for a little while and then maybe go eat something or... catch a late movie or maybe just go for a drive or all three or maybe just come here and hang out or just… shit, I don’t know, I’m rambling, I’m sor—“

Castiel swiftly pulled Dean’s head down for a kiss, effectively cutting him off. Their lips remained attached for the next few minutes before they finally had to come for air. The kiss was not as desperate as their earlier one, but it was twice as passionate. They were so close they shared each other’s air as they panted for it, more from emotion than from exertion. 

“The answer is yes, Dean,” Castiel looking up at Dean, who smiled in response.

Cas flashed him a mischievous smile. “Now, you _could_ pick me up tomorrow…” Cas slowly trailed his hands back down to where they had been on Dean’s zipper. “… _Or_ , I can just, y’know, _stay here_ …” He brought it down in one swift motion. “… And maybe skip that particular step.”

He watched as Dean’s eyes went from wide to shut, breathing out a “fuck” after bringing his forehead to rest on Cas’s again. Castiel dipped his hand beneath Dean’s underwear. His breath hitched before letting out shaky, nervous laughter.

“You’re really fuckin’ good at this whole seducing shit, what the _fuck_.”

“You’re pretty okay at it, I suppose.”

“Cas?”

“Yes?” Cas replied, amusement clear in his voice.

“Shut up and _touch my fucking dick already_.”

So he did.

**Author's Note:**

> that night, cas gripped dean's dick tight and raised it from perdition.
> 
> good night, everyone


End file.
